


Don't Do This To Me (Please Come Back)

by TheSpideyRanger



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Nightmares, Spoilers, but i had chocolate, this was difficult, working title: no one could xavier him, wynonna earp spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpideyRanger/pseuds/TheSpideyRanger
Summary: The whole situation was balls. Just once, Wynonna wishes life would be fair to the Earps - to her. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would have let Nicole fall. As much as the redhead tried to sacrifice her own life so Wynonna could save him; she would never have let go of the rope. She loves Nicole, and she loves- loved him.It was an impossible choice.





	Don't Do This To Me (Please Come Back)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom... and my first time writing in quite a few months.
> 
> Special thanks to Vythian for beta'ing the first part of this fic.

_ “You’re okay. Open your eyes. Come back. It’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t do this to me. Please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me. I love you so much. Come back. Please.” _

 

With a gasp, Wynonna awoke from her dream, her heart racing and her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat in the pale moonlight. She reached for the half empty bottle of whiskey that sat on the table, taking a generous sip and sitting back on the sofa, nursing the bottle close to her chest. 

 

The clock on the wall read 3:36am, marking the fifth sleepless night in a row since… since it happened. Wynonna squeezed  her eyes shut in an attempt to erase those thoughts - memories - from her mind. It was bad enough she was plagued by nightmares; nightmares where none of this happened, where she saved him, where she nearly saved him, and the true memory of it all - the fact she didn’t,  _ couldn’t,  _ save him. She didn’t need to have the nightmares plague her mind when she was conscious as well. Though, no matter how much she wished for that, she knew it never would. 

 

The whole situation was balls. Just once, Wynonna wishes life would be fair to the Earps - to her. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would have let Nicole fall. As much as the redhead tried to sacrifice her own life so Wynonna could save him; she would never have let go of the rope. She loves Nicole, and she loves-  _ loved _ him. It was an impossible choice. Waverly would never have forgiven her if she’d let Nicole go. She could never put her baby sister through the pain of losing another person she loves. At least, not again. Not after she kept her away from Mama. Not after she left Waverly alone to get far, far away from Purgatory. Not after she shot Daddy…

 

Wynonna brought the bottle of whiskey to her lips and drank.

 

At least there was one thing she could do successfully.

 

“Wy?” 

 

Wynonna was shaken from her reverie, her eyes glossed and droopy as she shifted her gaze from the clock, 4:12am, to her sister. Waverly stood in the doorway,  her small frame hidden by the blankets wrapped around her. She stood tentatively, two steaming mugs in her hands. 

 

“Hey.” Wynonna sat up, sniffling lightly and roughly wiping away the tears on her cheeks. She gestured for Waverly to come join her on the sofa.

 

“Don’t worry, I spiked it myself.” Waverly said as she handed the Irish coffee to her sister, her quip drawing the faintest of smiles as Wynonna gratefully took the offered mug. Wynonna took a sip and let the warmth of the coffee soothe her nerves that had been on edge ever since she woke up.

 

“What are you doing up?” Wynonna asked in an attempt to divert the attention away from her clearly upset state. Waverly paused momentarily as she raised her own mug to her mouth, averting her gaze as she took a long sip.

 

“I heard you yelling.” Waverly stared down at her lap, fiddling with the loose ends of one of her blankets. She refocused her gaze to her sister, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the droop of her shoulders, the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped her mug. She hasn’t seen Wynonna this tense, this  _ sad _ , since she had to send Baby Alice away. But, at least in that situation Wynonna had a choice. 

 

Waverly knows better than anyone what it’s like to have that choice taken away. Especially when your last name is ‘Earp.’

 

“It’s the fifth time this week, Wynonna, are you su-”

 

“Babygirl, no. We are not doing this right now.” 

 

Wynonna felt her vision blur and shook her head. She was not ready to talk about the dreams. She was not ready to talk about what happened, to even acknowledge it  _ had _ happened. With every morning she stays at the homestead past the time she would have usually left for the BBD office, half of her expects a series of missed calls from  _ him, _ asking her where she was and questioning her already dubious professionalism, or if there was something wrong that needed his help. The other half of her expects him to walk through the front door with a box of donuts and an extra coffee (that Wynonna would later have to spike herself) in hand as if nothing had ever happened.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

Wynonna doesn’t know what to do with that information, so, she does nothing with it and that seems to be working.

 

It’s not.

 

Waverly sighs next to her but Wynonna doesn’t make any attempt to meet her gaze, instead her gaze goes back to the clock, 4:42am. She finishes the rest of her coffee, which was mostly just whiskey now from how much Wynonna had spiked it further in her stupor, and lies down on the sofa with her knees curled up to her chest. 

 

Wynonna doesn’t move when Waverly pushes herself up off the sofa and lays one of her blankets over the heir. 

 

Waverly collects the empty mugs and mostly empty whiskey bottle and quietly makes her way out of the room and towards the kitchen, stopping once in the threshold to spare a glance at her sister who had just curled up into a smaller ball and pulled the blanket Waverly had given her closer to her face.

 

As the youngest Earp entered the kitchen she caught sight of her girlfriend sitting at the table and smiled, ever so slightly, before her whole demeanour crumpled. Nicole was up and out of her seat in a second, grabbing the fragile items from Waverly’s arms and placing them down, before she enveloped Waverly in a tight embrace.

 

She held onto her tightly, slowly rocking them from side to side, whispering small reassurances in her ear while Waverly sobbed quietly into her chest.

 

Even though Nicole hated seeing her love cry, hated feeling used to this, she was. It had become routine over the past several nights for one, or both, of them to be woken up by their own nightmares, Wynonna’s, or a combination of the three. 

 

On the nights they were woken up by Wynonna, Nicole would wake to find Waverly already sat up in bed and staring out of the window, grip tight on the comforter, an expression on her face that read countless nights as a child, as a preteen, where this had been commonplace. This wasn’t new to Waverly, being woken up this way, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with, and so Nicole would usually, except for tonight, gently coerce her girlfriend back into her arms and slowly run a hand through her hair while the other held her tightly to her own body until they both fell back asleep.

 

Nicole’s nightmares would startle her awake, a cold sheen of sweat covering her body, her heart racing so fast in her chest, so loud the only thing she could hear for the first minute was the sound of her blood pulsing through her veins. Fading images lingered in her mind of Wynonna growing smaller and smaller, of Waverly screaming for her, of the rock face moving too fast in front of her eyes as she plummeted to her death.  She knows she told Wynonna to let her go, to sacrifice her so Wynonna could save herself, save  _ him. _ But, her dreams leave her feeling guilty when she wakes.

 

She dreams of falling. Dreams her sacrifice goes to waste and he’s still gone. 

 

Her dreams leave her feeling guilty over the fact she was so ready to leave Waverly, the girl who has already lost so much. That she was ready to become just another grave for Waverly to visit. She feels guilty over the fact she was ready to saddle the responsibility of another death onto Wynonna, who already felt as though there was too much blood on her hands. 

 

She sometimes feels guilty that she feels glad to be alive. That she  _ was  _ saved. Waverly is quick to assuage these feelings.

 

More so, Nicole feels guilty Wynonna chose to save her; chose to hang onto that rope. For Waverly. For  _ Nicole _ . And now Wynonna, even though she saved Nicole, even though it felt like there was no right decision to make in that situation, still feels the guilt. They both know now that there was nothing that could have been done, but that doesn’t lessen the pain.

 

It does nothing to lessen the ache.

 

Waverly is silent when she wakes. There’s no yelling, no sudden intake of breath, no jolting upright. Her body heaves with the weight of the sobs that wrack her small form, but no sound ever comes out, no sound will ever come out. She’s practiced too long and too hard to make that mistake.

 

Daddy would get mad if she cried too loud and Willa would just cruelly mock her for being a “crybaby.” So she learned to be quiet.

 

It leaves Nicole with a pit of unease in her stomach at the thought of it. Of them. Of how they treated a  _ child.  _

 

The pit deepens when she imagines Waverly waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare and quietly crying herself back to sleep; waking up the next morning as if nothing had happened. All without anyone knowing. Without Nicole knowing.

 

Nicole, who shared the same bed and would still hear nothing.

 

Waverly’s getting better at actually waking Nicole up, but the deputy knows her girlfriend has already been awake for a while and calmed herself before she even thinks of waking her.

 

That’s just how Waverly is: never one to inconvenience another.

 

Nicole just wishes Waverly wouldn’t see waking her up, see  _ herself _ , as an inconvenience.

 

Nothing - and Nicole means  _ nothing  _ \- would ever be an inconvenience to her as long as Waverly Earp was involved.

 

When Waverly slumps slightly in her arms, the deputy takes this as her cue for the both of them to finally retire, again, for the night. Or, well, morning once she glances at the clock, 5:08am.

 

Nicole gently hoists Waverly into her arms, the latter only grumbling lightly at the move before snuggling into the redhead’s chest, and takes her to bed, moving carefully up the stairs so as to not make any unnecessary noise that would wake either of the slumbering Earp girls.

 

As Nicole deposits Waverly onto the bed and tucks her in, bonus blankets and all, she hears the front door to the homestead open and close with a creak that…  _ he _ was going to get around to fixing this weekend.

 

Nicole makes a mental note to make some time to fix the door herself.

 

As she tiptoes her way down the stairs and towards the room Wynonna had been occupying for the last week, she’s unsurprised to see Doc perched in one of the armchairs, holding his hat to his chest with a sadness in his eyes that Nicole has learnt is reserved for Wynonna, as he whispers to said Earp.

 

“I hope you can forgive me, Wynonna,” his voice cracks slightly, “for being so foolish as to think I could fight a ghost. For letting myself get knocked down when you... when he... When everyone needed me most. I’m sorry... I should have been better, been…” He trails off and Nicole decides to make her presence known by stepping on a floorboard she knows creaks.

 

Another thing to add to her fix list.

 

“Officer Haught,” Doc says, startled, though he is quick to recover, “I do believe it is a little early for anyone, even a deputy such as yourself, to be awake at this hour.” Doc’s voice was scratchier than usual, whether it was from the increase in cigarillos he had smoked recently, from exhaustion, or the emotions that had been running rampant through all of them for the last week, Nicole didn’t know. 

 

She also didn’t know how much Doc felt he was at fault for what had happened. Then again, she shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone is feeling the guilt, the pain, the fault.

 

If people could be fixed, they would be on her list.

 

Nicole simply shrugs with a tired smile and takes the chair opposite, the exhaustion clear on her face. 

 

Doc returns the smile, accepting the gesture as he turns his attention back to Wynonna, the smile slowly fading.

 

They sit in silence, the first comfortable silence either have had in a while, before Doc glances at the clock, 5:53am, and places his hat on his head and makes a move as if to place a kiss on Wynonna’s forehead, before he stalls and straightens his back. Deciding against such an intimate gesture when she wasn’t even awake, Doc turns and bids Nicole farewell with a simple nod, to which the deputy returns the gesture.

 

Nicole watches him leave the room, the creak of the front door the last confirmation of his departure.

 

With a sigh, Nicole readjusts the blankets around Wynonna before heading to bed, though it doesn’t need much fixing for once. (She has a sneaking suspicion Doc may have something to do with that).

 

Treading carefully up the stairs, the deputy rushes as quietly as she can to Waverly’s room, worried she left the younger Earp too long. However, Waverly seemed to be sleeping well, or as well as one could in this situation. Nicole sighed a breath of relief as she climbed into bed with her girlfriend, tucking her small frame into her side, watching as her tense brow relaxed ever so slightly.

 

Tightening her arms around Waverly, who subconsciously snuggled further into the embrace, Nicole finally allowed for a stray tear to fall down her cheek as she recapped all that had just happened. Her breath shuddered as it escaped her lungs and she had to stifle a gasp in order to not wake the sleeping girl in her arms.

 

She didn’t know how Waverly could do this so quietly, could do it without disturbing a single soul.

 

It was a type of sad art form. One Nicole is glad she will never master.

 

Nicole let a few tears flow before she took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She had to be strong, not just for Waverly, or Wynonna, or Doc, but for herself. Glancing to the bedside table she took note of the time, 6:10am. She could still get a couple hours sleep.

 

With that, Nicole sunk into the bed and closed her eyes, sleep coming to her almost instantly.

 

7:26

 

Wynonna began to writhe on the couch, her breathing becoming shallow, her eyes flickering wildly beneath her eyelids, a white pallor overtaking her face, and small mumbles coming free from her mouth.

 

“No.” She murmured.

 

_ Wynonna stood helpless and alone, watching as a large fire sphere formed around the two fighting entities. She couldn’t make out who they were, the bright orange of the fire blinding her vision. _

 

_ She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even look away from the ever growing sphere of fire. _

 

_ ‘Where was Waverly?’ She wondered. _

 

_ “Babygirl, where are you?” She yelled, still unable to move or look away. No response came and Wynonna became worried. “Waverly?!” She tried again but with no luck. Huffing in frustration and panic, Wynonna tried to move and was surprised to find  she could move her arms. _

 

_ Instantly, she made a grab for peacemaker, only to blanch when she couldn’t feel it anywhere on her person. _

 

_ “Doc?!” She yelled in a panic. No response. _

 

_ “Nicole?! Please, anyone!” Wynonna begged but no reply came, not even from her echo. _

 

_ She was helpless to watch as the fire transformed into the shape of an egg, before combusting, sending heatwave after heatwave through Wynonna, the light of the spectacle nearly blinding her, the boom deafening. _

 

_ When Wynonna finally gathered her bearings from being so discombobulated from the combustion, she almost wishes she hasn’t. _

 

_ “No…” She trails off, finally free from whatever binds were holding her to run towards the familiar figure that lay motionless on the ground. “Please, no.” She begs to the open air, dropping to her knees and shaking the figure on the ground. _

 

_ Wynonna shook him, slapped him, held him in hopes he would wake up, but nothing she was doing seemed to work. This can’t be real. It can’t. _

 

_ “Wynonna, he’s gone.” Whispers a disjointed voice that sounds an awful lot like Waverly. _

 

_ “No.” Wynonna shakes her head. “No, he’s not… he’s not gone. He can’t be.” She cries.  _

 

_ She doesn’t understand. _

 

_ “You’re okay. Open your eyes. Come back. It’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t do this to me. Please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me. I love you so much. Come back. Please.”  _

 

Wynonna wakes with a start, again, and takes in her surroundings. She’s on the couch, at the homestead, her heart is racing a mile a minute in her chest. She brings a hand up to her brow and wipes away the sweat.

 

She can’t fight the tears that begin to stream down her face.

 

She doesn’t fight the arms that are around her the minute the first tear falls and pull her into a hug. Waverly’s comforting scent encompassing her.

 

She can’t fight it anymore.

 

“He’s gone Waves… he’s really gone.” She hiccups and her voice crack too much for her to continue. Waverly just hums gently, places a kiss on her forehead, and lets her cry into her shoulder, running her fingers through her sister’s hair.

 

Wynonna pulls at the worn chain that has been around her neck since.... Since it happened and cries harder when she reads the name on the dog tags.

 

_ Xavier Dolls. _

 

The name of a friend, a coworker, a brother, a ‘what if’, a ‘what could have been’.

 

Of all the beings she’s seen go out in flames, she never thought one of them would be her...  _ Her Dolls _ .


End file.
